


sharing different heartbeats

by nevermordor



Category: One Piece
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut, Trans Male Character, spoilers for Thriller Bark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 19:03:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16666474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevermordor/pseuds/nevermordor
Summary: “Zoro?”“I’m fine,” Zoro spits, fresh beads of sweat breaking out across his forehead. Luffy starts to pull away and Zoro catches him by the front of his vest. “No, it’s fine,” he says, but his voice is all crumpled up and small and doesn’t sound anything like him. He takes another deep, rattling breath — he doesn’t have a cracked rib. He doesn’t. “I’m just tired, Luff. I’m fine.” The joints of his fingers ache where they’re twisted up in Luffy’s shirt.Luffy’s gone quiet. His eyes are very wide. His gaze feels heavier than the damn barbell did. It catches at every last dark bruise exposed on Zoro’s bare chest, every last raw wound carved into him. “Oh,” Luffy says at last.--In the aftermath of Thriller Bark, Luffy and Zoro try their best to mend.





	sharing different heartbeats

**Author's Note:**

> you know how sometimes you have kind of a weird, tough week and you just need to write something that very specifically feeds your own soul? yeah.
> 
> credit for the title goes to jose gonzalez's cover of heartbeats.

Halfway through his third rep, his arms have started to falter and the barbell is digging into the giant bruise shaped like a paw print between his shoulder blades. He has to pause mid-squat and readjust his grip. It’s the first time he’s stopped moving in nearly an hour and a half, and he’s dimly aware of his throbbing headache, of how tight his chest feels. Zoro waits. He breathes through the pain until the worst of it passes and then scowls at the guy staring back at him from the mirror Franky installed along the far wall of the tower. “You fucking pansy,” Zoro tells him. The pale, tired guy in the mirror doesn’t answer. He only sways slightly, his legs trembling with strain. Just for that, Zoro makes himself do another rep, and another after that.

At the start of his fifth set, someone taps his shoulder. Zoro ignores it, which is a mistake because when the tapping comes again it’s hard and insistent on the top of his head. “Luffy,” Zoro says tightly, “quit it. I don’t need you fooling around up here. I’m training.”

There’s a big sigh from the ladder. “But you’ve been training _all day,”_ Luffy whines, clambering the rest of the way into the observation tower.

“I train like this every day,” Zoro retorts. Truth is, he doesn’t know how many hours he’s been up here, only that it’s probably been too many and yet not nearly enough.

Luffy belly-flops onto the training mats. He kicks off his sandals and props his chin in his hands. Another, louder sigh. “Well, are you almost done? I wanna go swimming.”

Sweat drips down the back of his neck and the curve of his spine. His arms strain to keep the barbell suspended and yet Zoro pauses, eyebrows raised. “Swimming,” he repeats.

“Robin bought me those floaty thingies for my arms,” Luffy says, defensive. “I can do it all by myself.”

He probably can’t, is the thing. Even if the water wings work, Luffy’s a magnet for trouble. Something will happen: an enemy crew will come out of nowhere and pick a fight, or a storm will kick up, or a sea king will get hold of Luffy’s leg and drag him down beneath the waves. If — when — these things happen, Zoro won’t be ready. Not like this, with his battered legs and the dull ache in his chest that he’s been telling himself for days now _isn’t_ a cracked rib because he can’t afford to have a cracked rib. “Maybe just the pool today, okay?”

“You’re being boring.”

“I ain’t boring,” Zoro snaps. “I’m busy right now and then I’m gonna be tired later and I ain’t gonna wanna be in the ocean.”

“You were tired yesterday too,” Luffy says and pulls a frog face.

His arms are faltering again. He wishes he’d put the barbell down ten minutes ago; wishes Luffy weren’t watching him so closely.

He pushes through to the end, because that’s what he does best. He sets the barbell down and Luffy brightens at once and pats the open space on the mat beside him. Normally whenever Luffy’s there for the end of his workouts, Zoro skips water and cool down and stretching — he knows he shouldn’t, he can’t help it — and collapses next to him. He lays there sizing them both up, confirming for himself that they’re still evenly matched and that he’s still keeping his promise to be the best and the strongest, at least until Luffy blows a loud, wet raspberry on Zoro’s stomach and derails that whole line of thought.

If he lays down now, he’s not sure he can trust himself to be able to get back up. Zoro grabs his discarded shirt from the floor, wiping the sweat from his face. He stays standing.

“Nami says Chopper’s gonna be mad you took the bandages off. She says you shouldn’t be exercising right now.”

“Nami can mind her own damn business.” Zoro licks his lips. “Uh. Don’t tell her I said that.”

Luffy scoots closer, along his stomach. He’s got that look in his eye: that little curious glimmer that means something, against all odds, has snared his attention. “ _Are_ you still hurt?” Luffy asks, bemused. “Was it from that Dubloon guy?”

“Duvall.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Nah, wasn’t him.”

“Then was it that Gecko guy? He was annoying. I know Usopp was super tired from fighting him and so was Robin. And Chopper said that Sanji was limping a lot but then Sanji told him to go away. You were still asleep.” There’s a question hanging between them, half-formed in Luffy’s brain. Zoro wills him to stop. “You slept a long time after Thriller Bark.”

“So did you, dummy.”

“I guess.” Luffy grins abruptly. “Hey, if you don’t wanna go swimming, you wanna go fishing?”

“Maybe later.”

“I’ll wrestle you for it! If I win, you gotta come downstairs and sit and fish with me.”

“Luffy—”

“C’mon, Zoro! You chicken?”

“Luffy, shut the fuck up—”

He doesn’t shut the fuck up. He giggles, delighted, and bolts to his feet. Only he trips on the edge of the mat and Luffy sort of stumbles, sort of throws himself into Zoro. It’s like every time they crash together: Luffy’s hysterical laughter, arms and legs flailing as they topple over, Zoro first, Luffy still clinging to him. Except that when Zoro falls right on his ass, the muted pain along his spine flares up from his tailbone and then explodes in a white-hot burst across his back. Luffy’s knobby knees dig into the cuts that stretch across the tops of his thighs. He yanks playfully at Zoro’s arm, the one that nearly broke in two places when Kuma smacked him aside into a pile of rubble like he was _nothing_ —

All the air in his lungs gets pushed out in a low, hard rush. His vision dims at the corners and he tells himself to shove the pain down, to not shove Luffy away from him right fucking now.

“Zoro?”

“I’m fine,” Zoro spits, fresh beads of sweat breaking out across his forehead. Luffy starts to pull away and Zoro catches him by the front of his vest. “No, it’s fine,” he says, but his voice is all crumpled up and small and doesn’t sound anything like him. He takes another deep, rattling breath — he doesn’t have a cracked rib. He doesn’t. “I’m just tired, Luff. I’m fine.” The joints of his fingers ache where they’re twisted up in Luffy’s shirt.

Luffy’s gone quiet. His eyes are very wide. His gaze feels heavier than the damn barbell did. It catches at every last dark bruise exposed on Zoro’s bare chest, every last raw wound carved into him. “Oh,” Luffy says at last.

“I’m fine,” Zoro says. He has to be fine. So he is.

Luffy takes hold of Zoro’s wrist and pulls until Zoro releases his grip on Luffy’s shirt, and that’s good because it means he’ll leave now. He knows Luffy doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want Luffy to leave either, knows how much it hurts Luffy when he feels like he’s being rejected. But it’s good. It’ll give Zoro the time and space that he needs to get his shit together, so no one else has to deal with him when he’s like this.

Only Luffy doesn’t leave. He lets go of Zoro’s wrist to lay his hand against Zoro’s cheek. “Still here,” Luffy says hesitantly. His hand slips down the side of Zoro’s neck, to his swollen, bruised shoulder. Luffy’s touch is light and careful, like he never is. “Still here,” Luffy says.

They’ve done this before. Just once, right after setting sail from Cocoyasi Village. It was a long time ago: long before Luffy first kissed him, just when Zoro was starting to realize that being around Luffy felt like being kicked in the stomach, but in the best kind of way. He had first watch that night. Everyone else was asleep, or at least he thought they were until Luffy laid down next to him, the two of them huddled together on Merry’s deck. Luffy didn’t say anything: only hooked his chin over Zoro’s shoulder and put his hand on Zoro’s chest. He’d figured Luffy didn’t understand pain the way most people did, that he’d forgotten after so many years with his Devil Fruit. But Luffy’s fingertips traced the edge of Mihawk’s scar, the skin raw and delicate after being torn open by Arlong. The moon was behind the clouds. Zoro couldn’t see Luffy in the dark, but he knew Luffy was there, from the murmur in his ear—"Zoro’s okay? He’s still here?”—and from the hand resting just over his heart.

He didn’t think Luffy remembered.

“Still here?” Luffy asks.

“Still here,” Zoro answers and Luffy’s grin is small and lopsided. “Can I touch you too?” Zoro asks quietly and Luffy nods, eager.

There’s a moment of too much pressure on Zoro’s bruised abdomen until he shifts them so that Luffy’s balanced atop his lower thighs. Zoro runs his hands over Luffy’s shoulders. “You cold?”

“Nah, you’re all sweaty anyway.”

Zoro works his hands up and down Luffy’s bare arms. His thumb catches on the edge of a leather armband he’s never seen before. “Where’d you get this?”

“It was in the treasure we got from Thriller Bark. Cool, huh?” Luffy flexes his bicep.

“I guess.”

“It’s cool,” Luffy informs him. “It looks like something Ace would wear, you know? He’s always liked this stuff.” Luffy starts babbling about this one time when he and Ace were kids and went exploring some caves and Ace found a whole box full of old necklaces. He walks his fingers across Zoro’s shoulders while he talks, picking at the edge of a peeling bandage. It took Chopper thirty-two stitches to sew up his right shoulder. When Oars punched him, Luffy went bouncing and skidding across the broken concrete and then he hopped up and threw himself right back into the fight. When the bubble of pain exploded, it tore Zoro’s entire shoulder open.

Zoro slides his hand from Luffy’s arm into his shirt, feeling along the back of Luffy’s right shoulder. The skin there is smooth and warm.

Luffy squirms, vaguely impatient, as Zoro fumbles with the buttons on his vest. There’s no dark bruising on his ribcage, which makes Zoro smile in satisfaction, even as pain lances dully through his own chest. There’s a dent in Zoro’s collarbone where Chopper told him it had nearly been fractured. The line of Luffy’s collarbone is thin, unbroken, as Zoro traces it with his thumbs.

No scars on Luffy’s chest either — because Zoro already took that blow for him. He cups Luffy’s tits in his hands, his thumbs toying with his nipples. Luffy makes this little noise of surprise and abruptly stops talking. Zoro presses his mouth to the hollow of Luffy’s throat: he smells musky with sweat, and like his stale, unwashed clothes. He can feel Luffy’s heart beginning to pound.

“Zoro.”

“You want me to stop?”

“Nuh-uh.”

Zoro curls his fingers into the waistband of Luffy’s shorts. “Can I take these off you?” Luffy lifts his hips and gives a helpful little shimmy and Zoro yanks until Luffy’s shorts are around his ankles. He’s warm and bare and Zoro can see all of him like this: wiry, muscular arms, lean stomach, skinny thighs and not so much as a single scratch on him.

"Hey,” Luffy asks, curious. “Are we gonna have sex?”

“Not if you don’t wanna,” Zoro says. “I just…wanted to see you.” His hands are on Luffy’s waist. He’s skinny enough that the tips of Zoro’s fingers almost brush. If he tried, he could probably fit his hands fully around Luffy’s waist, he’s just that damn small. Which is kind of funny because Luffy’s a big talker, a big laugher, is practically bursting with the size of all his dreams. He’s strong enough to lift mountains, strong enough that someday he’ll shake the world to its very core and Zoro can't wait to watch him do it. But sometimes, also, Luffy is just so goddamn _small._

Luffy catches Zoro’s lower lip between his teeth and it hurts, but the pain is also bright and sharp. It makes Zoro’s throat ache in a way that has nothing to do with his injuries. “Hey. I’m glad you’re here,” Zoro whispers because he’s not sure he can trust his voice right now either.

“’Course,” Luffy says, exasperated. “Next time, just _say_ if you wanna have sex instead of fishing or swimming or something. I just wanna be with Zoro.”

Zoro pushes his face into Luffy’s shoulder. “Still right here, Luff,” he says. “You got me.”

His pants get stuck on his boots and his haramaki gets bunched up around his chest. Luffy spits into his hand and takes hold of him. He surrounds Zoro on all sides: the calluses on his palm as he works his hand up and down Zoro’s cock; the wet streaks on Zoro’s skin as Luffy rides his thigh; the little kitten licks along Zoro’s neck; the snicker in his ear, a mutter about how “Zoro kinda tastes like a corn chip.”

"C’mere,” Zoro says, gripping Luffy’s ass, pulling them together. Luffy gasps and he slides himself down onto Zoro in a single stroke because he always goes way too fast.

“ _Fuck._ ”

“Zoro,” Luffy moans.

“You gotta be quiet, Luff.”

“Oh, sorry. _Zoro_ ,” Luffy whispers loudly. Zoro laughs, and it makes his chest seize up, and he keeps laughing anyway. Luffy’s laughing too. He’s hot and he’s tight as he begins to work and roll his hips at a steady pace. Zoro’s legs feel like they’re locking up and the base of his spine aches. He’s aware of the pain, but more so of the flush in Luffy’s cheeks, the way his hair’s all mussed and damp, the way his gym’s going to smell like them after this.

Zoro cups Luffy’s face in his hands. He traces the arc of his cheekbones, traces over the same places where his jaw was nearly dislocated, where it felt like the side of his head was going to cave in when the bubble burst. He strokes the fine, soft hair at the nape of Luffy’s neck and touches his mouth, where Oars and Moria both punched him at least a dozen times. Not for the first time, he thinks that maybe he wants to be the greatest swordsman ever but maybe he wants this just as much: the thrill of Luffy himself, alive and so completely untouchable except like this, when Zoro puts his hands on him.

He comes first, and Luffy makes this little satisfied grunt. He’s still tight around Zoro’s softening cock, and Zoro finds Luffy’s clit, working him at the same rhythm as the thrust of his hips. Luffy’s panting, his hands gripping then releasing Zoro’s shoulders, trying desperately to anchor himself. Zoro works him harder, faster until Luffy finally comes apart, trembling. He collapses forward and Zoro is there to catch him.

He can hear the faint strains of Brook’s violin from Sunny’s prow. The rich smell of meat rises in the air and it’ll be dinner soon. From the galley, there’s the sound of Franky’s raucous, howling laughter.

Luffy clings tight, arms and legs wrapped around Zoro. His headache thrums dully and the split in his side has flared up again. Zoro waits. He breathes through the pain and holds Luffy close. Fading sunlight slants in through the window, and it catches in Luffy’s hair, dapples the backs of shoulders, bathing him in dusty gold.

This, Zoro thinks, is worth preserving. Dinner promptly at 6 and corny jokes, this small and special thing that Luffy made for all of them.

“Captain?” Zoro murmurs into Luffy’s hair.

“Still here,” Luffy says in a little croak, clinging tighter. “Zoro?”

“Still here,” Zoro agrees.


End file.
